Prudence by Elizabeth Bailey

glad that she had seen nothing of Mr Rookham these few days, except for yesterday’s visit to church in the village. And since her position demanded that she remain discreetly in the background, there had been no exchange between them beyond the commonplace.
    She had watched him greeting various persons—neighbours and tenants, so the twins had informed her the first time she had accompanied them. The girls had frisked about him, for it seemed to Prue that several of Mr Rookham’s acquaintances had a kindly word for ‘Miss Charlotte’ and ‘Miss Dorothy’. It was no part of her duty to involve herself in these gatherings, and her employer was under no obligation to present her to anyone. Except the parish priest, and he had done that upon the first Sunday. Well, it was only what Mrs Duxford had led her to expect. She was nobody, and if Mr Rookham on occasion treated her as if she indeed had an identity, it would be idle to expect any such recognition in public.
    Prue would not allow herself to acknowledge the slightest disappointment. Instead, she concentrated her mind upon the unspoken struggle with her charges.
     
    The following morning, she worked the girls hard, making them first read aloud from one of the improving stories she had caused to be purchased, and then write at her dictation paragraphs from the book in their best copperplate. Every error had to be written over, and she allowed them no let up right through until Yvette came in to get them for luncheon.
    ‘Zey are late,’ complained the Frenchwoman.
    ‘Oh, dear, are they?’ said Prue innocently. ‘They were working so industriously that I forgot the time. Well done, girls. You may go now.’
    The twins scampered out as fast as they could.
    But the battle was not yet won. Prue found herself waiting, over the next few days, for some other manifestation. She suspected that the twins were testing her, pushing her to see how far they might go before she acknowledged their attacks. Whether they supposed she would lose her temper, or simply punish them, she did not know. But their tactics were neither original nor unexpected.
    The Duck, wise in the ways of the young, had prepared her students well. ‘Naughty children will always make a point of discovering your limits. Set them early, and you will gain the mastery. But never, never allow them to see that they have succeeding in gaining the upper hand, or they will inevitably end by ruling the roost.’
    By now, Prue thought unhappily, Nell would have unfailingly stopped the twins in their tracks. While she had succeeded in baffling them by refusing to acknowledge the assaults, Prue had no notion how she was going to set limits upon them. But one thing she was determined upon. She would neither lay a hand upon them herself, nor give them up for another to do so.
    In the event, the crunch took her unawares.
     
    Thursday morning had been difficult. Prue had set the twins a translation from the French, hoping that a little work in a language that gave them no trouble might help to ease the difficulties of English.
    Her hope proved misplaced. The girls began easily enough, quickly making sense of the simple Frenchsentences. But their attitude changed swiftly when they discovered that they were required to adjust their translations to correct grammar and write them down in a neat fist.
    Between Lotty’s sulks and Dodo’s complaints, Prue had a trying time. She persevered, hampered by Lotty’s bid to pretend to stupidity in translation in a vain attempt to postpone writing. Dodo merely tried to change the subject, asking frequently whether it was not time for luncheon.
    Prue could not but be relieved when the hands of the clock, having crawled their way around the hours, at last informed her that this purgatory was at an end.
    ‘Very well, that will be all for this morning.’
    Lotty waited by the door while her sister collected Folly from the window sill. It had become their habit to take him out for a